Swords Crossed
by A Winter Dreamer
Summary: Blackmailed by Captain Bonnefoy, Alfred Jones is forced onto the infamous Captain Kirkland's ship for one reason only - murder. Little does he know the pain of deception, the cost of love, and the price of hurting someone who is already bound for death. (USUK)


_Hello everyone! Just as a disclaimer, the title of the story comes from a song from a *very famous* pirate movie's OST! (About a curse and a certain ship named the Black Pearl). This is not a crossover but was, in part, inspired by the world of the movie._

 _Characters that appear in this chapter(names that aren't official yet, or not widely used): Raj(APH India), Ralph(APH Australia)_

 _Please don't forget to review!_

* * *

 _It's not my fault._

Alfred knew that no matter how much he told himself so, the constant, gnawing guilt remained as the sea breeze whipped his face, the salt stinging his eyes.

It had been five days.

Five days, and all he was given were instructions and a dagger.

And yet, how much was taken from him?

 _Everything_.

His village. His livelihood. His family, his parents, his brother...

He had failed his brother most of all. Matthew, his weaker, kinder, softer brother with a heart of gold. Matthew, who he'd constantly overshadowed since childhood, who he would always beat at games yet who'd always play with him, who had been a subtle presence in his life yet who'd never drawn any attention to himself. So Alfred promised that he'd protect him in turn, so that Matthew could always remain that way. Purer. Innocent. Happier. And then Alfred could be happier too, protecting him.

Unfortunately, Matthew did draw the attention of _one_ man. And then everything went to hell.

"Listen up, ya deck rats!" one of the crewmembers called, and Alfred broke out of his stupor of memories, looking up at the man standing above them on the second floor of the deck. "Cap'n's comin' out ta greet you. Make way, make way!"

And so the crew, like clockwork, parted immediately, save for Alfred who was, obviously, a step behind from everyone else being so inexperienced. He quickly moved to one side, resentment heating his face.

Yes, it was _this_ bastard's fault.

He felt the bitter taste of hatred on his tongue.

He hated _both_ of them, actually. The man who had taken his brother and the man who had caused the killing.

He didn't trust either, but he knew he had to kill-

"Captain Arthur Kirkland," came a quiet gasp beside him, and Alfred turned his head slightly to glance at the crewmember next to him. The man-more like boy, really-spoke in a slightly accented manner, and upon seeing him Alfred could understand why. He seemed to be of a different race...Chinese or Japanese, perhaps?...with an oval face and smooth skin not yet besmirched by the dirt and dearth of life at sea.

 _Captain Arthur Kirkland_ Alfred repeated to himself, chanting his name like a mantra, as if the venom of his words alone could poison his new captain.

"Look down," a voice came, firm but not hostile, and Alfred quickly glanced at the source before lowering his gaze, clenching his fists as he did. He hated being told what to do.

The first mate, it seemed, was foreign as well. With bronze skin and black hair, with an ever so slight accent, the first mate had a _bindi_ on his forehead and strong eyebrows.

The harsh click of boots on wood was the first Alfred heard of Captain Kirkland.

And then the smell. The sick smell of roses, of perfume, that masked something deeper, darker underneath that Alfred did not care to wonder about. He had one job, and one job only.

But Captain Kirkland's first words were not to the crew, as Alfred had expected. He heard a pause in the steps.

"So this be the crew?"

"Yes, sir," the first mate replied.

Were most of the people here new? Why did Kirkland even have to _ask_ that? What else would they be doing on the ship, if not to serve him?

"Eyes forward." His voice was clean, clear, crisp. Used to giving commands, Alfred assumed. It was not quite loud, but it still rang in the air, captivating, attention-grabbing.

Alfred and the rest of the crew slowly raised their gazes to the captain.

Alfred stared at his-quite annoying-polished boots, giving away none of Kirkland's history, his battles, nor where he'd been. Clearly the captain cared about his appearance. A glint of silver caught Alfred's eye next - for Kirkland had a large sword at his belt, along with other small pouches and a...

Alfred froze. He had not only a sword but also a gun, and the gun was the least polished of the two, looking worn from use. Maybe this was the message Kirkland wanted to send. That he would not waste time with a drawn-out fight, but would eliminate his enemies as quickly and efficiently as possible. Alfred made a mental note to nab the gun as soon as he had the chance. And yet, the Captain's belt, so big and bulky, seemed lose around his waist. If anything, Alfred would describe Kirkland's body not as robust and muscled as he had imagined, but rather lanky.

What Alfred saw next simply baffled him. The Captain's chest was wrapped in bandages, some more dirty than others, and over the bandages, yet low enough to reveal them, was a ripped white shirt. Which really didn't make sense considering his over-the-top royal red coat lined in black with gold above the shoulders. It almost looked militaristic and meant for gentry or royals. Then again, Alfred hadn't been in England long before he was taken-no, _kidnapped_ -so he wouldn't be able to recognize special clothes anyway.

"You all want to serve the Azure Lion, do you?"

Finally, Alfred took in the Captain's face. He took in the sharp green eyes that matched the small circular emerald, or gemstone, hanging off his neck. He took in his nonchalant, cold expression with the occasional lopsided smirk, as if he found something amusing. He watched the feather on Kirkland's abnormally large hat sway with the breeze, a hat that Alfred knew he could never afford.

More than anything, Alfred found it hard not to gawk at his enormously huge eyebrows, caterpillars above the Captain's eyes.

But what struck Alfred the most was the depth of those eyes. The beautiful green that seemed to mask so much more, that romanticized all that the Captain had been through. It gave the Captain a sense of being so much more than Alfred's enemy, and Alfred despised him for that. For making Alfred feel any more than he needed to. And so Alfred called this weird feeling hate, and dismissed it.

He knew that Matthew would protest, saying it was against Alfred's character, saying that Alfred was so much kinder than he was pretending to be. But his head hurt when he thought of Matthew, so he decided to focus his attention outwards again.

As the crew surveyed their Captain, Alfred noted that the Captain was also glancing around at the crew, studying them from head to foot.

"Work until death. Fight until death. For all and for one. This is our motto," Kirkland said, walking up and down the aisle the crew had parted to make. He occasionally lifted a chin to see a crewmember's face, or patted an arm to see what strength a man may have. His footsteps were even, practiced, almost like the beat of music.

He stopped in front of one of the crew, eyes narrowing. The man was three away from Alfred, who had turned slightly to look in curiosity, as most of the crew had done.

Kirkland suddenly raised his leg and kneed the man in the stomach, and the sailor fell over with a cry of pain.

Kirkland whirled on his first mate, his emerald eyes alight with rage. " _Raj, did you not properly survey my crew before allowing them on board?_ "

Alfred's mouth almost dropped open in shock.

 _What the hell?!_

The first mate, Raj, winced slightly. "I did as you asked, Captain Kirkland."

"You did as I _asked_?" Kirkland mocked, his grin twisting into a snarl. "And you saw it fit to allow this _filthy maggot_ on board The Azure Lion?"

"He said he wished to see-"

"' _Wished_ to see?'" Kirkland interrupted him, his tone crisp and mocking. He suddenly turned on the crew, the tone of his words more terrifying than the weapons at his side.

"I will personally toss all you scurvy pigs off the fucking ship if you even _dare_ to have so much as one farthing's worth of hesitation or useless fear in your tiny minds."

Alfred turned to the Asian youth next to him to see his reaction, but his expression still remained that of awe, as if he was impressed by Kirkland's strength and temper. Strange.

He turned back to find Kirkland's eyes fixed on him, his eyebrows slightly raised. Alfred almost jumped, then returned Kirkland's gaze, glaring at him without thinking.

Only a short while ago, Alfred would have found such a glare strange, alien. But now, it felt natural.

It made Alfred feel sick, until he recalled seeing a piece of his father's arm, but not the rest.

"Hm."

Kirkland walked over to him slowly, taking out his sword and fixing it, before Alfred could move, right under Alfred's chin.

"See here." He lifted Alfred's chin higher with his sword, and Alfred, seething but unable to fight back, allowed him to. Alfred noted, with satisfaction, that he was taller than the legendary captain. He felt the stares of the rest of the crew boring into his skin, and he really didn't like the feeling of being put on display in this way. He much preferred being everyone's idol, everyone's hero, in a _positive_ way, like when he was a child and won games or races, or when he broke records, or when he took over work for his parents and made them proud. Of course, he was no longer a child, and he could no longer judge his heroism by what he did for his family. He never could, even when he was free.

He felt their loss like a hole in his gut, an empty feeling in his heart that could never be filled.

Except by this man's painful death.

" _This_. This is what I want. Do you see, Raj?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you see?" Kirkland repeated, this time presumably to the entire crew. " _This is what I need_. Do you see the hatred? The feeling? This boy is alive."

He let go of Alfred just as suddenly, sheathing his sword back in his belt, still gazing at Alfred in what seemed to be interest.

Alfred was just stunned. Maybe he was giving off so much hatred as to be detected. But he couldn't help it.

Hopefully it didn't compromise his mission. Alfred felt himself beginning to sweat.

He had been stupid. He should have feigned interest, obsession even, instead, with the great Captain Arthur Kirkland, master of the seven seas.

"And what's your story, lad? Raided your village, and you want revenge on me, is it?"

Alfred's eyes widened, and he stared at Kirkland blankly, his mouth slightly open.

Heat seared the back of his neck as fear, shock, embarrassment, _shame_ swept over his body, burning hot then icy cold.

 _How?_

But what was worse was that Kirkland's words were light. Casual. Mocking. As if he didn't even care he had an assassin on board.

"And what's yours?" Kirkland asked a man across from Alfred, dismissing Alfred as quickly as he had acknowledged him. It only served to enrage Alfred more.

"I-I...I love the sea, sir! I love the ship! And...and I've always wanted to serve you, sir!" the sailor responded immediately, passion underneath his flailing words.

"The last is a lie," Kirkland commented, but his voice wasn't accusatory; if anything, he spoke as if he were stating a fact. He didn't bother to respond to the man's protests, as if Kirkland was so assured he was right. "But you pass."

"Now," Kirkland said, walking to the man he had hurt, "This is to any of you. What is wrong with him?" The tone of his voice was unreadable. He didn't seem angry, anymore. Or even disappointed.

"Sir, Sir, please! I just...I-I just needed..."

" _Enough_." The Captain's voice was poison. "Work until death. Fight until death. For all and for one. If ye be unable..."

Alfred saw Kirkland's gaze briefly stop at the Japanese man before he sweeping over the rest of the crew.

"To the plank with ye."

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" Alfred whispered to the Japanese man as he scrubbed the deck, taking care that nobody else was near them.

The youth turned to him, surprised, before he lowered his gaze to his work again.

When he did speak, it was unexpected.

"You are here to kill the Captain?"

"No," Alfred said immediately, too hurried, and he began to despise his brother's kidnapper for not preparing him for deception. "I just, uh, didn't like the way he treated that guy he kicked off the ship."

The man smiled sympathetically.

"What is your name?" Alfred asked, carefully, in a low voice.

"My name... _ettou_...Kiku Honda," he said, returning Alfred's gaze briefly before looking down again. "Your name is..."

"Alfred Jones," he responded.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Alfred Jones."

Alfred whirled around, the voice that responded not being Kiku's. He saw Raj staring down at him with a slight smile. Alfred immediately stood up.

"Sorry," he said, stuffing his pride down his throat.

"Why apology?" Raj tilted his head slightly. "You are favored by the Captain."

Well, _that_ was a surprise. Alfred didn't know Kirkland was a masochist.

That, or a sadist. He'd already kicked three members of the crew off the ship, telling them they hadn't gone far from port and to swim back.

Luckily, none of them had been Gilbert. His supposed "partner," scrubbing the deck not too far from Alfred.

But he had to avoid contact as much as possible. That was the order.

And so Alfred avoided thinking about Gilbert as much as possible.

"And Kiku Honda, yes?" Raj said, turning to Kiku, who also hurriedly stood and bowed to Raj. Raj smiled, bowing back. "I believe it is, _hajimemashite_?"

Kiku's eyes widened as if flustered, and he bowed again. " _Hai, hajimemashite. Yoroshiku onegai itashimasu._ "

"Sadly, I do not know that much," Raj said, his smile unwavering. "I will leave you to your work."

And so Alfred and Kiku got on their knees again, scrubbing.

* * *

"You dumb fucking shit."

Gilbert had cornered him later that day, behind a post. "You couldn't hold in your fucking angst for _two seconds_?"

"He doesn't seem to care," Alfred countered, a bit taken aback at the menace in Gilbert's tone. He hadn't seemed so mean when they had first met, when he clapped Alfred over the back and said he was strong, said they could easily take on the mission.

It was also quite possible Gilbert was really, _really_ drunk when they met.

"Also," Gilbert said, as if he suddenly calmed down, "Don't worry about the burning your village stuff. He does that often so it was probably just an offhanded comment to insult you. He doesn't know the real reason."

Alfred sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Lucky guess, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Besides, you didn't give me any training."

"The Captain wanted it to be as natural as possible. Who'd ever send an _untrained..._ you know, after the great Captain Kirkland?" Gilbert snickered.

"So how do we do this?" Alfred said, eager to get to the point. Eager for this to be over with, and then he could save Matthew. And from there...

There was no home, though. So...so then...

He'd figure it out afterwards. After he rescued Matthew. They could figure it out together.

"Okay. You were given one rule." Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed.

Alfred remembered, but he'd figure he'd try it out anyway. Not to use any words related to killing, assassination, or murder, and _definitely_ not discussing any strategies, even when they were "alone."

Despite his being drunk half the time, Gilbert wasn't stupid.

No matter what, Gilbert also hadn't given him the name of the Captain who sent Alfred to kill Kirkland, nor the reason, aside from the fact that Kirkland razed Alfred's village without batting an eye.

All he knew was that the Captain who had sent him had an eyepatch(which Alfred always thought pirates had as a fashion accessory and not, in fact, to hide any missing eyes), blond hair, and a blue eye. He had a bit of stubble, though Alfred only saw him at night and so he might have imagined it, and he was quite tall. Oh, that and he had a French accent.

Alfred held resentment for the Frenchman, too. It was dirty, using Alfred to fight his wars while he took his brother as collateral.

Most of all, Alfred hated being used as a puppet.

He hated the bondage of not having a _choice_.

* * *

"Oy, man. Wake up."

Alfred immediately started, blinking his eyes blearily as his eyes adjusted to the bright light pouring in through the windows.

Of the wooden planks surrounding him on all sides. Of being on a ship to God knows where, of being an assassin and spy and having a mission.

He turned to look at the person shaking his arm. He wasn't Gilbert, but another nameless member of the crew.

"Kirkland'll have yer hide if you don't get up. Come on," the man said, looking relieved that Alfred woke up.

"Shoot, sorry," Alfred said, rubbing his eyes. "Daylight already?"

"Man, it's almost midday."

Alfred turned to the man again, noting his brown hair, thick eyebrows, and two cowlicks that resembled Alfred's cowlick that his parents could never get to stay down.

"Thanks for risking your ass for me, dude. What's your name?"

The man grinned. "'Bout time you asked! You're famous around here already. Made the Captain happy and all that. Name's Ralph!"

"Thanks, Ralph. I'm Alfred."

"Raj told me," Ralph laughed. "Won't forget a man like you, will I?"

Part of Alfred thought it was funny Ralph called him a man, three times now. He was used to being called a boy. Never a man, even by the girls he dated.

"Raj is the first mate, right?"

Ralph nodded. "Yeah, he's a tough one, that Raj. Been w'the Captain since waaaay back, and crazy enough to stick w'him! Imagine that."

Alfred felt angry even thinking about it. _Why on earth would he stay?!_

It had been a day and Alfred already wanted to finish him off and be done with it.

"We should get going," Alfred said, standing up, still not quite used to the sway of the boat. Luckily, he didn't feel seasick.

Yet.

Ralph nodded, and the two went up to deck. Though Alfred hated to admit it, despite the heat, the sea was beautiful at noon. The water was a pristine blue, the salty smell felt almost refreshing, and after the desolation of his village the hubbub of life on deck felt reassuring.

He had people. He wasn't alone, he and his brother facing nothing but ash and dead bodies.

 _Focus._

He saw the Quartermaster approach him, having been introduced yesterday. It still shocked Alfred how diverse the crew was. An Indian first mate, an African quartermaster, a Japanese sailor...

He'd probably never be able to see so many different kinds of people in his _life_ , forget on an English pirate ship, if he hadn't been on board.

"You clean deck."

Alfred had no idea how the deck managed to get _dirty_ after one day, but he knew he probably shouldn't argue.

He shrugged and got to work, not bothering to worry about the Quartermaster's glare.

"Alfred," came a whisper, and Alfred turned to see Kiku beside him, his eyes worried.

"Oh, hey, Kiku," Alfred said, smiling slightly. "Sorry, late wake up."

"The Captain...did not punish you?" Kiku said, looking down to Alfred's hands, then up to his neck and face.

"Uhhh...no. Ralph-the guy with the funny hair-woke me up just now. But I haven't seen the Captain yet, and Raj or the Quartermaster haven't said anything to me."

Kiku looked surprised.

"He does like you, then."

Alfred was getting sick of the supposed "favor" of the Captain. In fact, all the favor he _wanted_ was a clear shot at his throat.

But underneath all of that was the unsettling feeling in his chest. The confusion, the fact that he was at the Captain's whim and that it could also be turned into punishment at any time.

As if on cue, the doors to the captain's chambers opened, and the Captain strode out, clothes pristine save for the bandages. What was with those, anyway? And why did it seem like they had bloodstains that weren't there the day before? And why did Alfred even _care_?

He looked over the wheel before turning towards deck, surveying the crew and state of the ship.

"Good work, lads."

Alfred did a double take. Did the great Captain Kirkland just _praise_ them? Did the next Sinbad just _compliment_ mere sailors' daily chores?

He overheard Kirkland tell Raj, "They look promising. Make sure they're free if I don't make it."

The rest of the afternoon, Alfred really didn't know what to make of Kirkland, nor the journey ahead of him.


End file.
